leaves fallen
pink sky
purple eyes
swollen are the gates
reprimands flew
like flames from funeral pyre
strange smell
but then thats how
every touch when entered
in a double entry book of records
becomes an IOU
ripples have reached the other end
full (REd) moon
( has it fallen from the sky)
clouded window
rays refracted
waking alone
cup of coffee in office
slowly sipped
why did i let it cool a bit
what happened to the taste for
sizzling hot brew
may be the burns are still intact
may be the blisters betray
the trust, the cool
ice cubes had,
in my ability to hold the glass quietly
in hand for long
but that is all over
fingers are numb
lips quiver a lot
brew is not boiling
and the
ripples in the lake have reached
the
other end
shades of truth
purnata ki aahuti
bahut saarey toofano se gujar ke aaj aaya hun
kisee shikayato ke pahado se chhalang laga
kar aaj aahat hua hun
lekin bhaganey se shikayetey door nahin hoti kabhi
kisee ke jhhooth ya sach ke bhram se
kisee tarajoo ka insaaf taya nahin hota
jo bhi ho
jaisa bhi ho
mitney ki lagan se hi
baadal baras paata hai
barso
mito
ghul jao
sama jao
kisee bhi shikayat se door
kisee laanchan se door
bas ho jao
purnata ki aahuti
swollen silence
being normal
I stopped ploughing
I ploughed the land
Opened the furrow
Seeds were happy
Though exposed to sun
They sprouted
A flower was happy at the
Comfort of pulverised soil
But then I stopped ploughing
And flower became unhappy
Searched for other Gardeners
Who ploughed that land
But none could make the flower ever happy again
Complaints became louder
Why did not I plough again
How do I answer
It was not that
Soft soil would not be nice to
Sow new seeds
But there were too many weeds
Allowed to grow
By the winds and the light
I could not remove them all
I could not plough again
But the flower is in protest still
And my plough has rusted
Is that the source of entire agony?
fatigue of failure
will this be the end
now
of such a long ordeal?
i have gone through it
hoping that pages will be turned
new careful concern will emerge
leaves on the edge of the road will
now rot slowly
manured beds will let weeds grow
because i will not till
them
will not sow seeds of flowers
that were lying with me
i have thrown them in the lake,
not too far
from the place where i had heard
resolution of devotion and
commitment to the cause
once
this made the paving of the path worthwhile
now, i just want to walk away
i am tired
and i can’t resist/refuse/revoke fatigue
of failure
a thought
It’s not easy to be patient with paradoxes of unfair expectations and unequal responsibilities, but seesaw of life demands that all the time
kisee toofan ne apni nao ke mastool ko puchkara hota
aanchal mein sir thoda mera chhupaya hota
aasman se girtey sitarey ko apne balon mein
thoda sambhala hota
kisee toofan ne apni nao ke mastool
ko puchkara hota
kisee sookhi jameen ke garbh mein
beej ummeedon ka ugaya hota
kisee aasmaan ke tootey huey indradhanush se
teer samudra ki talahati tak chalaya hota
kuchh der aur intzaar kar ke
kisee pathik ki thakan
ko mitaya hota
kiseee ke sir ko apne aanchala mein chupaya hota